


Fifteen

by EllieMurasaki



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Community: spn_bitesized, Eating Disorders, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-16
Updated: 2011-09-16
Packaged: 2017-10-24 05:44:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 637
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/259655
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EllieMurasaki/pseuds/EllieMurasaki
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam and Jess, deaged to fifteen, navigate high school.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fifteen

Dean is having _far too much fun_.

This town, they're Sam, Jess, and Dean Turner, after Tina; Jess's idea, not Dean's. Dean has papers saying he's the older brother and legal guardian of a set of twins. Jess might be physically fifteen (she swears she knows this from her weight), but she _looks_ like a skinny twenty. Sam, meanwhile, just looks short. He was still shorter than Dean when he left for Stanford.

Because Sam is fifteen and small and can't actually take Dean anymore, unless Sam has a gun and Dean doesn't, Dean derives great amusement from Sam riding piggyback. So does Jess, for that matter, though Jess is not nearly strong enough to lift Sam.

They're working on that. There have been far too many occasions where Sam's physical strength was the only thing that saved a life. Sam and Jess go to school, do their homework during class without ever paying attention to the teacher, come home, and do calisthenics and run drills.

Sam and Jess are in the same phys ed class, fourth period. Sam used to be able to hit the damn baseball harder and farther than anyone else; now his coordination is all gone to hell, because even after a month he's still used to being six-four and muscular. It wasn't nearly this bad the first time he was fifteen.

"Hey Coach, can I borrow the ball and a marker?" Jess asks one day. She shows Sam her artwork. "Zombie."

Jess has never actually seen a zombie, so the grinning pointy-toothed face she's drawn on the ball bears no resemblance. It works, though: Sam actually connects with the ball.

Same class fourth period means same lunch period, the way this school runs. Jess and Sam sit down together as always, both with double portions of lunch in front of them. There's no talking, just face-stuffing.

"Turner's gonna get fa-at," singsongs someone at the next table. Sam can't remember her name.

Jess goes stiff.

"What's wrong?" Sam asks in a low voice?

"Doubt that," says another girl at the next table. "She probably just tosses her cookies after."

Jess stands up without answering Sam and delivers two swift punches, one to each speaker. She might not have much muscle mass, but she knows how to use what she's got; both girls' noses break. Jess grabs one by the collar, nods at Sam, and hauls the girl off in the direction of an exit. Sam hastily grabs the other girl and follows.

"Taking them to the nurse," Jess snaps at the first person to ask what's going on.

"Do you mind," she asks the nurse and the teacher who followed them there, "explaining to these _ladies_ that it's not polite to tease someone who used to have anorexia about her weight?"

"I never knew," Sam says, dumbly.

Jess glances at him. "You weren't supposed to."

Later, when Dean's been called and Jess's school-imposed punishment sorted out and Dean's driving them back to the crap apartment they share, Sam asks. Jess shrugs. "I was fifteen and stupid and thought skinny meant pretty. Tyson sorted me out."

"When?" Sam asks.

"Right before he introduced me to you."

Which means Brady screwed with Jess's head as part of his plan to hook her up with Sam. But Jess not having anorexia anymore—if it's the sort of thing that goes away like that—is a good thing, which a demon did, which makes Sam's head hurt.

"Yeah," Jess says. She knows all about Brady, so she knows exactly where Sam's mind just went.

"Well, _I_ think you're beautiful," Sam says. No one can be watching, except Dean whom everyone is pretending isn't watching, so Sam feels justified in leaning in for a kiss. Except he's forgotten, _again_ , that he's not six four.

Jess laughs out loud.


End file.
